


Crush

by Soraya (soraya2004), soraya2004



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-16
Updated: 2005-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/Soraya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/soraya2004
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This short fic deals with the dangers of eavesdropping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush

**Author's Note:**

> Contains mild spoilers for Season 1's episode "The Eye"

  
"How did you know, cause I never told,  
But you found out, I've got a crush on you."

'Crush on You' by The Jets

\---

  
"Watch it!"

"Okay, okay. Hang on—could you—"

"There, I've got it!"

"You sure?"

"Jeez, relax, will you?"

"Just—look, don't mess around with this!"

"I got it, okay? Loud and clear! Do not jostle, do not drop, do not let anything past that incredibly tight sphincter you've got policing—"

"Come on, I'm serious! The last thing any of us needs is Sheppard riding our asses because he thinks we've broken one of his toys."

"Now, that's an interesting thought. Speaking of the Major, have you noticed the massive man-crush he has on Dr. McKay?"

"Man-crush?"

"Hmmm."

"Is that even a word?"

"No, it's two, hyphenated."

"Oh."

"What? You don't believe me?"

"Did you really expect me to? I *am* a linguist, you know. Hyphenating doesn't automatically make things into legitimate word expressions. It is *not* an evolution in language; far from it, actually; it's just a sloppy means of expression that's now disturbingly prevalent among today's youth obsessed culture."

"I meant about Major Sheppard."

"Oh, *that*! Well, of course I believe you; it's so blatantly obvious, everyone can see it."

"Everyone, except Dr. McKay!"

"I know, isn't it great? We know something Rodney doesn't know! We know something Rodney doesn't know!"

"Hmph."

"What now?"

"Nothing. That was just incredibly mature of you."

"I know, I know. But, how often do we get to pull one over McKay? Huh? Let me enjoy this moment while it lasts."

"He'd be so pissed, if only he could buy a clue."

"It makes me just want to tell him, you know? I keep dropping little hints, but he just doesn't get it."

"With McKay, you have to drop big hints."

"Huge."

"Massive, monster sized 'follow you around everywhere' sort of hints."

"Kind of like the ones Sheppard keeps dropping and McKay keeps missing?"

"Yeah."

"It's strange. I would never have expected things to work out this way. You'd think McKay would be the one with the severe case of unrequited lust. That's the way it usually is for us geeks."

"I know what you mean. Only, for some reason, this time it's different; this time, the pretty boy gets to walk a mile in our shoes."

"Maybe there's some weird reverse sexiness thing going on in this galaxy."

"Huh. Maybe. I don't see you getting any sexier, though."

"Ha! Cute!"

"Thank-you."

"Whatever! Anyway, did you see the Major yesterday? When Stackhouse reported that problem with the Naquadah generators?"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember!"

"That was incredible. He was all like 'Ooh, let's go get McKay. McKay will know what to do; he'll be able to fix this. McKay can do anything.' It was so cute."

"It was kind of sweet, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Stackhouse tells me Sheppard's like that all the time with the 'Rodney this', and 'Rodney that'. Drives the rest of the jar-heads nuts!"

"I can imagine. That man has it so bad, if you know what I mean."

"Almost as bad as the Lieutenant."

"Oh, yeah! Now, there's a man-crush if ever I saw one."

"Nah, that's not a man-crush; that's a boy-crush."

"A boy-crush?"

"Uh-huh."

"What the hell is the difference?"

"Charisma, for one thing. Sheppard has this whole 'I'm in charge and that's cool' thing going on. I guess that comes just with being in command. He knows people will fall in line, and they do, because he's *the man*. Ford, on the other hand . . .."

"Oh, God, don't remind me! Carson must have bitched about him for weeks."

"Do you blame him? If I'd had to put up with the whole 'You have to shut up now, because I'm in charge!' whine, I would probably still be bitching."

"Yeah, you know you would!"

"Ha, ha, very funny."

"I thought so. So, you really think they're doing it?"

"Who, Beckett and Ford?"

"Yeah."

"Nah, no way! Ford's still trying to get Carson to notice him and Carson's still bitching about Ford's whining. Anyway, I don't get why you think Ford's crush is a boy-crush and not a man-crush."

"Aw, come on! Is he even old enough to shave yet?"

"Huh! You make a good point there."

"And, from what I hear, when the Genii had a foothold, he was practically jumping up and down around Beckett, screaming: 'I'm *the man* so treat me like one'!"

"I wish Carson would just fuck him like a man already."

"So does Ford, I bet—"

***

  
A sharp cracking sound signalled the end of the team's newest prototype in interstellar surveillance, and despite years of experience under combat fire, John couldn't help but flinch at the abruptness of its demise. After so much noise and chaos, the sudden silence in the briefing room was shocking. The force of the explosion had sent tiny metallic looking fragments scattering across the table, but a large proportion of the debris simply skidded to a halt right in front of him.

It was hard to believe it was all over. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl during his frantic attempts to cut that damning transmission. He could still feel the imprint of the device on his hand, where he'd slammed it down again and again trying without success to shut it down.

"Well, I think we can safely say it works," John said, running his thumb across the bruise forming at the centre of his palm. That aching sensation grew sharper with each second that passed, but it was a good pain, the kind that grounded a person and focused the mind. The mere fact that he felt anything there was a relief, considering how close Ford had come to shooting his hand off along with that thing.

"Um . . . Ford?" John asked in a low voice.

"Yes, Sir," Ford replied, tearing his gaze away from the mess on the table.

"Everything okay?"

"Fine, Sir."

However, contrary to those words, Ford didn't stand down. Instead, he maintained battle stance, with both arms outstretched and his gun pointed at the remnants of McKay's latest invention. The expression on his face was a mixture of embarrassment and pure terror, as though he expected the device to leap up and start talking again.

A thought, which also crossed John's mind. Rationally, he knew the chances of that happening were slim to none, considering the device was now scattered across the table in several pieces. But, he also knew it wouldn't hurt to make absolutely sure, so he conducted a lengthy and comprehensive threat assessment, which consisted of poking the debris with the tip of his pencil.

"I think it's dead," he pronounced, after another minute had passed.

"Are you sure?" Ford asked him, his tone urgent.

John prodded at the debris one more time. "Yes, it's dead," he said decisively. He lifted the pencil, waving it in the direction of Ford's gun. "You can put that away now."

Ford holstered his side arm with obvious reluctance. "Whatever you say, Sir."

"Good shooting, by the way," John added, because it was important to acknowledge displays of proficiency and excellence. Little gestures like that boosted morale and could make the difference between a good team and a great team.

But Ford just seemed to shrink in on himself, and he sat back down, shoulders slumped as he did his best to blend in with the furniture, leaving John out there alone to cope with a silence that had grown to epic proportions.

This was the kind of situation that made or broke people. He'd heard that everyone in command had a moment when they were truly tested, when they had to face down their greatest fears and find out if they had what it took to really be a leader. He'd just never expected to have *his* moment in what was supposed to be a routine briefing session with the command staff.

He cast his gaze round the room, taking in the sea of stunned faces, cataloguing them, and carefully assessing each one. McKay and Beckett wore near identical expressions of slack-jawed astonishment, and Bates, as usual, was giving nothing away. Weir, on the other hand . . ..

John glared at her, until she had the grace to cover her mouth with her hand. She didn't make a sound, but the way her shoulders were twitching told him she was laughing her ass off. Oh, she was going to pay for that. Later, John promised himself, as soon as he had his dignity back and his face was a little less flaming red. He was going to make them all pay. Especially those two bastards they'd overheard, who had placed him squarely in the most embarrassing moment of his entire life.

He could probably ask McKay who they were; something told him Rodney had already figured that out, Rodney was great at things like that. Then, he was going to hunt them down and kill them. No one would ever find the bodies.

"Of course, I'll have to build another receiver now this version has been rendered inoperable," McKay said all of a sudden, jarring him out of those murderous thoughts. "Fortunately, I have all the schematics on file."

"That's good to know," John replied. He didn't know what else to say so he just went back to his seat, studiously avoiding McKay's eyes.

Minutes passed, and still no one in the room was speaking. Which meant they were thinking, and probably reviewing what they'd overheard and seen; and God, that was bad, that was very, very bad. The pathetic looks Ford gave him did nothing the calm the queasy sensation at the base of his stomach. But worst of all, McKay was staring at him; he could feel it.

"Do you . . .?"

"Not now, McKay!" John growled at him.

"Because, if you did—I mean, you and me, well that would be . . . except you've given me no real indication that you do. Other than being exceptionally annoying, which you are, by the way, just so you know. And, my God, that's something you do to people you *like*?"

John dropped his head in his hands. "McKay, please!" he begged, hating the wheedling tone of his voice, and knowing that everyone was watching him squirm. "Can we just—look, we'll talk about this some other time, okay?"

And, while he said 'some other time', what he really meant was 'never in a million years'; he prayed really, really hard that McKay would get that and shut the hell up. It was bad enough that the whole of Atlantis thought he was crazy about McKay; he didn't need to confirm they were right. But, McKay forged on regardless, and out of the corner of his eyes, John caught a glimpse of his hands waving excitedly, the way McKay always waved them when he was on a roll.

"I'm mean that's ridiculous! Because I would have noticed, wouldn't I? I'm far more observant than most people. I'm the most observant person on this planet. I would definitely have noticed if you wanted to f—"

"RODNEY!"

"WHAT?"

John glared at him, before pointedly flicking his eyes round the room. "This is *really* not a good time."

That got him the full pissed off Rodney treatment, complete with crossed arms and lifted chin. "Fine," McKay snapped.

"Thank-you!" John cleared his throat, and then he ran his finger along his inside collar, tugging sharply at it. The room felt like it was closing in on him, and his heart was pounding so loudly he was sure everyone could hear it. He needed to get out of there fast, before he found some new way to embarrass himself. "Well, if there's nothing else, I suggest we take a break."

He'd barely finished his sentence before Ford shot out of the room.

Beckett stood up next. "I'll just have a wee word with the young laddie. Make sure he's all right . . . " he said to no one in particular, before racing out after Ford.

John stood up, more than anxious to leave, but he was damned if *he* was going to run. A gentle touch to his arm startled him, and he flinched visibly, before turning round to face Teyla. And how he could have forgotten about her was beyond him, especially since *she* was one of the architects of this disaster. "Yes, Teyla? What can I do for you?"

"Major Sheppard, please forgive me if I have caused offence. I thought only to place the device in a public place so we might learn of its capabilities. Was that wrong?"

She looked bewildered and a little hurt by his harsh tone, so John found himself rushing to reassure her. "No, no, that was fine. Good work, Teyla," he said softly.

Teyla inclined her head in acknowledgement.

She stood her ground, forcing him to walk around her. And just as he made it out of the room, he heard her ask: "Will someone explain what this word 'man-crush' means?"

John did the sensible thing: he ran.

  
The End.


End file.
